


He Can Take a Punch... Sorta

by dragonnan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bruises, Fanart, Gen, Injury, Inspired by Fanfiction, Physical Abuse, Sherlock Whump, Sherlock is a Mess, Teenlock, sgam76
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:42:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonnan/pseuds/dragonnan
Summary: Inspired by sgam76's wonderful story, "TLS and the Sloane Ranger"





	He Can Take a Punch... Sorta

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sgam76](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgam76/gifts).
  * Inspired by [TLS and the Sloane Ranger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666621) by [sgam76](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgam76/pseuds/sgam76). 

Excerpt from "TLS and the Sloane Ranger"

***

“Were you an intern as well? I know you’ve been here at least six months, anyway.”

“No, it’s my ‘gap year’, of a sort,” Lock said, waving his hand airily in punctuation. “My brother thought that a taste of espionage before returning to academia might appeal. It would also give my professors a break from me—some of them have no sense of adventure, nor humour.”

“Wait—you mean you’ve already started university?” Anthea asked. “Why did you wait for your gap until after you’d completed your first year?”

The boy shook that shaggy head. “No, I’ve finished. Started uni at 16, so I got a bit of a head start,” he said smugly. “Completed my undergraduate degree this past May. I’ll likely head back for my PhD once I’m done with this lark. But I’m in no particular hurry.”

Anthea was quite sure she had never heard MI6 described as a “lark” before.

She settled next on the most annoying part of this conversation.

“I can’t tell if you’re lying without seeing your eyes,” she said, and reached out to snatch the sunglasses off Lock’s nose, evading his belated grab for them with ease. She nearly dropped them, though, when she looked up and saw what they’d been hiding.

Ice-pale eyes blinked, looking warily over towards his brother, who now strode around the table for a closer view. Around those eyes, the skin was swollen, with colours ranging from almost black, through purple, pale blue and green-yellow. The right eye was mostly closed, the white a deep red at its inner edge.

“_Sherlock!_” Mycroft breathed, gripping his brother’s chin and angling his head for examination.

The portions of the boy’s face that weren’t blue and purple flushed a deep rose. “Stop,” he muttered. “I’m fine, and gave as good as I got. Well, nearly.”

“Who?” gritted Mycroft.

“You don’t need to—” Lock began.

“_Who?_” his brother demanded again.


End file.
